


remember me (when i'm gone)

by Alice_not_in_Wonderland



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: And a Hug, Angst, Dream needs so much therapy, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I couldn't resist, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Protective Sapnap, Sapnap is very angry, This fic is so freaking good, thinking that someone is dead is such a good trope, when he's ready for one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_not_in_Wonderland/pseuds/Alice_not_in_Wonderland
Summary: It takes far too long for him to realize.His foot sends something flying through the snow, making a dull sort of thunk as it hits his boot, and he watches it arc into the air and land in the stranger's hands with a sort of detached fascination, but not much else. It isn't until a moment later that he recognizes the rough shape of the thing, notices the dark, dried blood splattered all over it, and Bad's running over to grab it as it falls to the ground.---Someone has killed Dream, and Sapnap wants their blood.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 769





	remember me (when i'm gone)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Numanum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Numanum/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Run and Go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25388797) by [Numanum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Numanum/pseuds/Numanum). 



> im so in love with this fanfic it's not even funny. There's definitely discrepancies bc i wrote this quickly and have a terrible memory, and my ability to give justice to the amazing writing of Numanum is sadly,, lacking,, but i hope you enjoy regardless :D
> 
> tw/cw: off-camera character death, grief, mourning, language, implied abuse, off-screen violence

It takes far too long for him to realize.

His foot sends something flying through the snow, making a dull sort of thunk as it hits his boot, and he watches it arc into the air and land in the stranger's hands with a sort of detached fascination, but not much else. It isn't until a moment later that he recognizes the rough shape of the thing, notices the dark, dried blood splattered all over it, and Bad's running over to grab it as it falls to the ground.

"Oh no," Bad's voice is low as Sapnap runs up behind him, tossing a quick apology to the stranger as he half-shoves him out of the way. Bad holds the piece of wood gently, fingers tracing the groove carved in the wood that is- was a smile. Sapnap thinks of the compass needle, bright and red and spinning spinning spinning under the enchantments, and his blood runs cold.

George gasps sharply and Bad's hand hangs over the blood and everything falls together at once in his head. Dream, delirious and scared and running after being cured from the redstone poisoning his blood, getting lost and cold and weak in the snow. Someone, out there, stumbling upon him, seeing his face and thinking of nothing more than easy emeralds in their pocket. A compass, broken because there's nothing,  _ no one  _ left to track.

"Someone-" he can hardly breathe through his anger, through his grief, "someone fucking killed him-"

George starts, next to him, and Bad hardly even reacts to his curse. Angry tears begin to gather in his eyes, making the world blur.

"They're next."

"We can't track whoever did it," George reaches to put a hand on his shoulder and Sapnap jerks away. Bad's voice is soft and steely and cold.

"Yes, we can."

Sapnap breathes, hard and harsh in his own ears, before digging around in the snow from where he'd originally found the piece in Bad's hands. George kneels down a moment later to help him search, and his fingers feel numb as he shoves them through layer after layer of dry, powdery snow. His hand scrapes across something hard and he pulls out another piece of wood, similarly splattered with blood, and can't stifle the choked sob that comes from his throat.

Whoever it was that killed Dream, he thinks, gripping the only thing left of him they have, he's going to make them  _ pay. _

\---

They go to the cleric the next day, catching brief glances of the stranger they had met in the village. Sapnap doesn't bother talking to him; he always reminded him of Dream, in a weird sort of way, both having the same sort of tall, lanky build and sandy hair. Then, the similarities were comforting; now they _ burn _ , a bitter reminder of their failures. The cleric looks at them curiously as they stumble into his building and he realizes they must look like a mess, himself shaking with rage and George's eyes filled with cold fury and Bad trembling with grief.

Sapnap pulls out the compass and shows it to him. "We need this reenchanted," he says, accompanying it with rough gestures that he hopes communicates his meaning. The cleric turns to Bad, confused, and makes a questioning noise as he gestures in the air.

Though Sapnap doesn’t get it, Bad must, because he reaches into his pack and pulls out a folded piece of paper with trembling hands. "He was our friend, but he died." The cleric seems shocked, before murmuring something that sounds apologetic. He asks another question, pointing to the words on the poster.

Bad shakes his head. "He was our friend. They said he did bad things, but he didn't." His voice becomes more sure in his resolve, speaking slowly and clearly as he tries to figure out how to make the cleric understand. "He isn't-wasn't a bad person. He wouldn't hurt anyone."

Sapnap nods along, a lump in his throat. That isn't-wasn't to say that Dream wasn't dangerous. He was, but in the way that an injured dog was dangerous, in that he'd attack any hand that got too close after being hurt one too many times. And Dream  _ had _ been hurt, he knows. It lingered in how he was always skittish in a way that ran deeper than from simply being hunted. It was the way that he flinched back sometimes, arms moving up almost as if to hide his face, it rested in the tense knot ever present against his shoulders and the silence that clung to his every movement, like he was afraid to make a sound. He had been hurt before, more than from when they had sent him into the walls or the ground from ignorance or carelessness one time or another, deeper than from the arrows and shouts they had originally flung at him. And now, he is-was hurt permanently, in a way no regeneration potion could simply fix, and the finality in the thought has a surge of heat growing within him that does nothing against the ice in his lungs.

George speaks up from behind him. "We need to find whoever killed him," he stumbles over the last two words,  _ killed him _ , but taps the compass in Sapnap's hands and then the blood on the mask shard in his own. This, the cleric definitely understands, because he nods and motions for Sapnap to hand the metal disk over. George hands him the mask without prompting, gently placing it over the desk.

"Please help us," Sapnap says, all the rage suddenly evaporating and leaving him hollow and blinking back tears. "Please."

\---

They leave the village once the raid is over, and Sapnap knows that the blood and bodies and screams he had heard will haunt him in times to come, but he's still too overwhelmed with the dark knot of feelings from losing Dream to be able to process anything further. Bad gives the cleric a hug as they leave, bonding over their shared grief, and he's glad that at least one of them has enough fucks left to give.

They follow their compass through the snow as it begins to thin, the cold air becoming something more manageable. They follow the tracks of the raiding pillager party, and Sapnap wonders if Dream had run into them, earlier. The images flash behind his eyelids again: shattered screams and a broken mask, a wheezing laugh, gentle hands left to bleed in the snow, and he sucks a breath through his teeth.

"He didn't  _ fucking  _ deserve-" he stumbles over his words, not bothering to acknowledge Bad's murmur of chastisement from his side, "-didn't deserve to die like that. He-"

"Nobody deserves to die," Bad mumbles, though the words don't hold any heat, only sounding as hollow and hopeless as the expression his face. Sapnap scoffs.

"I can think of someone." His hand tightens around the newly enchanted compass. "And that  _ fucker  _ is going to pay for what they've done."

\---

They run into Technoblade nearing the pillager tower. His eyes glitter under the hair falling over his face and pulled into a braid behind his head. He's preparing his weapons outside the tower, readying himself to raid it, and as they move around the tower the needle points surely in its direction. They agree to not get in each other's way as Technoblade stares down the figures going in and out of the tower, eyes flinty and dark, and Sapnap remembers him mentioning a village once or twice and feels a shadow of pity.

Their compass, as they follow Technoblade's path of blood and gold, points stubbornly ahead, not to any of the pillagers that the other man cuts down without much effort. Instead, it leads them down the tower, lower and lower until they reach a dark, carved out space lined with wooden bars: a dungeon, with someone inside.

The figure, huddled in the corner of the cell, is familiar. As his eyes adjust to the dark, he realizes it is the same stranger they had met in the village. And the compass in his hand points straight at him.

He doesn't really think before his hand is grabbing around his ankle, pulling him against the floor. A foot is sent into his wrist a moment later, hard, and he pulls it back to his chest with a curse. The other man scrambles away, expression scared and bleary with sleep, and for a moment Sapnap wonders what the pillagers have to have done to him for him to be this terrified. He realizes a moment later that he really doesn't care.

"You killed him," he spits, and his hands wrap around the crude wooden bars separating him from the other. Splinters bite into his hand, but he can't bring himself to care. He hates himself for ever thinking that this man, this  _ monster  _ was anything like Dream. Dream, as scared and desperate and guarded as he was, was kind. He saved George without prompting, without thinking. He liked holding hands with people, and giggled while trying to pronounce his name, and held chickens in his hands to pet with gentle hands. Dream was kind and gentle and hurt, and now he was  _ gone. _

The other man stares at him, bright green eyes glowing in the torchlight. His knees are pulled against his chest. He notes Bad stepping closer to the bars from the corner of his eye, but cannot rip his gaze from the stranger- the murderer- in front of him. 

"What?" He moves as if trying to stand up, and Sapnap's grip tightens even further because  _ how dare he _ , how  _ dare  _ he try and feign ignorance when Dream's blood is on his hands. His sweater is a soft green that reminds him of Dream and the thought comes that maybe he's wearing Dream's clothes as a trophy and for a moment, his vision goes red in fury.

Bad, having more common sense than him, seems able to think beyond the itch to cleave the man in half that has Sapnap's hands twitching, and pulls out a shard Dream's mask, still flecked with blood. The sight of it is almost too much to bear, but the other man's head pitches forward and Sapnap punches the bars between them.

"Why?" His hands hurt from when he slammed them into the wood, and his eyes burn furiously in rage and grief, and all Sapnap can think is  _ why _ ,  _ why would you hurt him why would you kill him why would you do that to my FRIEND-  _ and the murderer's head ducks down.

"He ruined my life." The admission is soft, heavy, and Sapnap starts reaching for his axe because he cannot bear to hear this man's words any longer, cannot listen to someone that had killed and lied about it and left without caring at all, cannot let someone with Dream's blood all over his hands live.

"Really, because he saved mine," George says from his side, and Sapnap's never heard him with this cold fury before. The other man still refuses to look up.

"We had fun with you while you got away with murder," Bad's anger is even more foreign, even more damning. The other man's shoulders seem to shake as the iron guardian- Sapnap hadn't even noticed its presence in the cell- creaks as it moves towards him. "We threw snow, and we should've been throwing rocks because, I swear, Dream wouldn't hurt anyone and you  _ killed him- _ "

George steps next to him. "Why would you do this?"

"It was killing me, slowly, but I regret doing it," the other man's words are slow, still, and fearful. He's a damn good liar, Sapnap will give him that, but it doesn't matter whatever broken reasoning he had or if he had any at all because Dream is dead and he admitted to killing him and Sapnap wants his  _ blood. _

"It- Dream is-" he chokes on his words, the memory of his loss, "was a  _ he _ , not an it," because he didn't have to be human to be a person, and apparently, staring at the man in front of him, you didn't have to be inhuman to be a  _ monster _ \- "and he'd never attacked without reason before-" whatever happened with Bad didn't count, not when he was clearly not himself, not that it could even be counted as without reason, not when he'd so clearly regretted it the moment he regained control of himself again. Sapnap draws his axe, the grip biting into his bruised palms as his fingers tighten around it much more than they should-

A bag falls into the cage. Sapnap's gaze whips up past the man to see Technoblade, covered in gore from the pillagers, presumably, and stolen gold and loot- blood money, Bad had called it- raise an eyebrow at them. Bad shouts.

"Technoblade," Sapnap raises his axe behind him, "we told you not to do anything!" He swings the blade into the bars and they creak dangerously. The man, ignored by Bad and George as they stare at Technoblade, grips the bag in his shaking hands as Sapnap wrenches the axe away for another swing.

"And I disobeyed." The murderer stranger rummages through the bag frantically, sending gold and emeralds scattering across the floor, and Sapnap pulls the axe back again. The next swing, surely, would go all the way through. The blade crashes into the bars, sending bits of wood flying across the ground, and he steps into the hole and grabs the bag just as the stranger's hands tighten around something pale and dull.

He doesn't really realize what's happening until he's already stopped in the middle of the cell, his axe hanging loosely from his hand. The transformation- and that's the only way he can describe it, because it's simultaneously so seamless and yet so jarring- happens as soon as the pale disk covers the man's face. His hand covers the markings on the wood, holding it in place, but suddenly the fearful huddle and rough voice of the stranger aren't foreign anymore, the now-obvious mask covering a stranger's face and becoming someone  _ familiar,  _ fearful and curled into himself with shoulders shaking and harsh, rattling breaths that almost sound like sobbing-

"Dream?"

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i'm declaring the Give Dream A Hug club rn, and i'd say that i'm the head of it but honestly im gonna reserve those spots for the Muffinteers once they finally get to Talk with Dream
> 
> please give this boi a hug im begging 
> 
> AAAA Numanum is actually such a good writer,, their work The Run and Go has kept me hooked since the first chapter?? just the details, the way the different plot points and stuff are weaved throughout the narrative,, the characterization the dialogue the lore,, it's all so so good??? ? please check them out if you haven't already bc their writing is actually so good


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